


Prompt Collection

by diemarysues



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Characters to be added, Additional Tags in Author's Notes, Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Multiple Pairings, One Word Prompt Meme, Other, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-23
Updated: 2017-02-19
Packaged: 2018-02-10 03:02:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 8,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2008461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One word prompts with which I am writing ficlets, to help break my writer's block.<br/>Ficlets added as I finish them (internet connection willing).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mistakes, Bofur/Lindir

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! I know I'm supposed to be writing the second chapter of the catfic (if it does end up being one chapter instead of more), but my brain will not cooperate. And alkjira, in all her wisdom, has correctly pointed out that I can't force it, so instead write ficlets to get the juices flowing.  
> So. Do enjoy.
> 
> *Prompt and pairing are in chapter titles, tags and warnings will be in the author's notes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Genderqueer Character  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Gen

Lindir believed that all relationships, like unstable atoms, were subject to decay. It had been a constant their whole life – not only with romantic relationships, but friendly and sometimes family ones, given what was termed their ‘gender choice’. That was why they weren’t very surprised when Bofur sat them down.  
  
“I know what you’re going to say.” Lindir kept their gaze on the top of Bofur’s hat instead of his kind eyes. They could still hear that surprise in his voice.  
  
“How – how did you find out? When did you find out?”  
  
They took the time to breathe deeply. “You’ve been jumpy and distracted for a week and a half… but I was only sure this morning.” Even on the days they’d woken up alone, there was still the warmth and the smell of Bofur on the bed beside them. But not today.  
  
Bofur rose to his feet – Lindir almost flinched – and then scooted around the tiny coffee table to drop down on the sofa beside Lindir. “So if you know, what’s your answer?”  
  
Their answer? “It’s your choice.”  
  
“It’s yours as well,” was the quiet reply; when Lindir chances a glance, Bofur’s expression was earnest.  
  
They hesitated only for a moment. “Yes.”  
  
“Yes?” Really, Bofur needn’t have sounded so hopeful and happy.  
  
Lindir dropped their chin to their chest. “Yes.”  
  
They were taken completely by surprise when Bofur hugged them tightly, and then pulled back to kiss them – the surprise only peaked when a ring was produced and slipped onto their finger. Lindir hit Bofur then, to his surprise, and half hid their face in their hand as they answered Bofur’s demand for an explanation.  
  
Bofur only laughed and pulled Lindir close again, and perhaps… perhaps this relationship, unlike all the others they’d endured, had reached a stable state.


	2. Bite, Fili/Kili/Bilbo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Threesome - M/M/M, (Implied) Sibling Incest, Light Smut  
> Warnings: Implied Incest, Smut  
> Rating: Teen

Though Bilbo thought that he’d rather gotten used to the peculiarities of Dwarves, Fíli and Kíli consistently proved him wrong – usually in a spectacular and shocking fashion.

 

This time it was the younger of the two, and it wasn’t so much shocking as surprising and odd. Kíli had started hugging him from behind whenever Bilbo was standing and occupied with some menial task. Bilbo wasn’t adverse to it – given Dwarven boots and their inability to walk quietly, he was never caught off guard –, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Kíli’s arms were strong, his chest solid, his hold warm.

 

The odd part of it all was the way Kíli would press his cheek to Bilbo’s ear, for a moment, before dropping his head and sighing. Bilbo could not understand this, and all questions went ignored – questions to Kíli, that is.

 

“He wants to bite your shoulder.”

 

Bilbo paused in his finger combing of Fíli’s chest hair. “What?”

 

“Kíli. It’s how he shows how comfortable he is around you.” His had was lovely and warm, and the right size to cup Bilbo’s bum. “He doesn’t bite hard but… well, you’re too short for him to do that.”

 

“That’s not my fault.” Bilbo frowned, shifting so he was straddling one thick thigh and was able to look into Fíli’s eyes.

 

“I never said it was,” Fíli said; he sounded like he was trying to be soothing, but there was a telltale hitch in his voice. Reaching out and snagging Bilbo’s hand, he brought it to his cock. “But can we discuss it later?”

 

Bilbo decided to let it slide for now, lazily rubbing himself against Fíli. “I thought we were supposed to wait?”

 

“Kíli won’t mind – _ah_. Harder please –!”

 

Somewhat pleased that his lectures on politeness had had some effect, Bilbo smiled and obliged.

 

Some time later he dressed and left Fíli to snore against the pillows, wandering into the pantry to start dinner. As he was slicing ham, he heard the front door open, and turned just as Kíli entered the kitchen and grinned goofily.

 

Bilbo marched straight up to him, rose to his toes, and firmly bit down on a bemused Kíli’s shoulder.


	3. By My Side, Thorin/Nori

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Fluff  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Teen
> 
> Yeah, I really don't know what happened here >_>

There are hidden rooms and secret tunnels and false panels in the royal quarters, but only Nori knows each one and knows how to avoid the traps and security measures put in – because he’s the one who set them. Even Thorin doesn’t know the extent of Nori’s access, but he trusts Nori. There’d hardly be a point in letting Nori free reign if he thought that Nori was likely to lead assassins to his doorstep.

 

No, Thorin has faith that Nori would deal with any threats as he saw fit, which Nori sometimes thinks is unwise. Sometimes he voices it aloud. Sometimes he shouts.

 

Strangely, Thorin is always calm when that happens – considering how he is undiplomatic at best and hot tempered at worst. His response is always the same: if Nori had meant to kill Thorin, he’d had ample opportunity during the Quest. He also likes to point out that the trust goes both ways.

 

Nori still wonders how they’d become friends. They are not alike, and they came from starkly different worlds. That doesn’t stop either of them from sharing conversations (Nori usually hidden from view). As time progresses, Thorin coaxes Nori out into sharing meals as well. Finally and very satisfyingly, though, Thorin manages to coax Nori into his bed.

 

And sometimes Nori pulls Thorin into cupboards.


	4. Starlight, Bilbo/Thorin (merhobbit 'verse)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Fluff, Alternate Universe: Merfolk  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Gen
> 
> This belongs to the [Keep Your Feet](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1697855/chapters/3612326) 'verse.
> 
> P.S. I know this isn't a rarepair. But... the ~~seals~~ baby Hobbits...

 

 

“Stop wriggling.”

 

“I’m trying to get comfortable!”

 

“You’re acting like a fish.” There was a loud smack. “Ow.”

 

“That was your own fault. You know that annoys me.”

 

“Which is the whole reason I keep at it.”

 

“I know that, but –”

 

“Can you move a little? I think my – oof.”

 

“You’re the one who told me to stop ‘wriggling’.”

 

“Let me –”

 

A helpless giggle cut off. “I’m going to _fall_ , Thorin, I – oh.”

 

Thorin sighed in satisfaction and leaned back. “That’s much better. Isn’t it much better?”

 

Bilbo was now seated in between Thorin’s thighs, his back against a solid chest. It was strangely pleasing to be able to feel every breath his Dwarf took, and Bilbo happily arranged Thorin’s arms so they were secure around him. “Yes, it’s much better.”

 

“I did offer to sleep on the ground with you.”

 

“Aye, but I’ve never slept in a hammock before.” His flippers were actually hanging out of it, just like Thorin’s left knee was bent at the edge. The feel of the canvas was strange, considering that it was holding him up – holding both of them up. He squirmed a little, in spite of Thorin’s careful arrangement, so he was half facing Thorin and could choose to press his ear to Thorin’s chest.

 

The Captain – he would forevermore be known to Bilbo as a Captain – gave him a fond look. His interlocked fingers rested in the curve of Bilbo’s waist, where mottled skin gave way to mottled fur. “You’re a wonder.”

 

There was reverence in his eyes and in his voice, enough to dry the quip on Bilbo’s tongue. Instead the Hobbit rested his head against Thorin’s body, blue tunic fisted in a clawed hand and listening to a steady heartbeat. He curled his tail around Thorin’s leg.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm struggling with the catfic, yet got this out in about 10 minutes. Brains are weird.
> 
> Also: I will be overseas - yes, again, I know, but only 'til Tuesday. Be strong.


	5. Breathing, Smaug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Dragons  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Gen

Dragons did not breathe fire. The best way to describe it was that they ‘spat fire’, produced in their bellies and expelled through ducts on either side of their tongue. Beyond their scaly hide, their mouths were the only part of them that could not burn. Inhaling their fire meant scorching their throats, lungs, and sometimes went as far as their stomachs. This was not usually fatal, but it was always painful.

 

This was why dragonlings were not immediately able to use their fire. The appropriate appendages and ability would develop as they grew; as their parent(s) or sibling(s) taught them proper technique and control.

 

In all its life, Smaug had been teacher to six dragonlings. Four out of this number had been younger siblings.

 

Assaulting Erebor had partly been due to the pull of all the gold and the accompanying greed of the Dwarves – and partly due to the two eggs Smaug later laid deep within that gold. No more than a year later they hatched; one was bright as glittering emeralds, the other dark as amethyst. Both were beautiful and well-formed, both fierce and intelligent.

 

They were its pride and joy, doubly so when they were grown enough to leave the ‘nest’.

 

Smaug thought of them now. Then it flew onwards to Laketown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Back from holiday! Instead of writing catfic, I've done this and... something else *clears throat*


	6. Choose, Dís/Frerin/Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Threesome - F/M/M, Sibling Incest, Introspection  
> Warnings: Incest  
> Rating: Teen

There finally came a day where Dís concluded that most of the problems that she faced were due to her brothers – and this did not have anything to do with the fact that she was the youngest of the three siblings, with brothers that were naturally trying. (Well, not entirely due to that fact.)

 

The main problem started when they were all three skilled enough to have their weapons training together. Thorin tended to use a sword though he fought equally well with an axe, Frerin preferred a bow and throwing axes, and Dís favoured a shortsword in each hand. It was difficult for her to concentrate, however, whenever she observed her brothers fight.

 

It didn’t stop in the training halls. Dís seemed to be hyperaware of Thorin and Frerin – dark and light – whenever they were in the same vicinity, whether during lessons or feasts or in their communal study. Even when they were nowhere to be seen she could not shake them from her thoughts.

 

Before long, Dís concluded that she was _attracted_ to them, that she loved her brothers more than a sister was ‘supposed’ to. Her reservations were not connected to this at all; she believed in her heart that love in any form could not be shameful. No. Dís’ hesitation was due to the fact that she was in love with both brothers equally. Dwarves either took one partner or none – that was the way of things.

 

She was immensely glad to be proven wrong by her brothers, when they both took her. And when she then took both of them.


	7. Everybody, Bilbo/Dori/Dwalin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: D/s Relationship, Aftercare  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Teen
> 
>  
> 
> For elenorasweet, who wanted aftercare.  
> (edit: is this really the first fic for this pairing?)

They have all learned that the _after_ is as important as what happened _during_. They are all three very accustomed to speaking their minds, after all, and responsible enough that their discussions (and ‘discussions’) are concluded and done with before any activities – whether in the bedroom or not – are undertaken.

 

It is after.

 

Dori makes tea. The scent is as relaxing as the action itself; he does not bother to dress, only clad in a thin dressing gown before putting the kettle on. It is routine, taking calming breaths as he waits for the water to boil, and then for the tea to brew. He adds sugar and takes care not to clink the spoon as he stirs. He only makes two because Dwalin doesn’t like tea, holding each cup delicately in his hands.

 

Dwalin instead lies with his head in Bilbo’s lap (and Bilbo is very careful not to spill anything onto him). He often comes out of their ‘sessions’ with wrists and arms needing to be gently massaged; Dori is in charge of this, using the same unscented oil kept on the bedside table and smiling softly at every relieved groan he receives. Bilbo strokes his fingers through Dwalin’s hair with his free hand.

 

And Bilbo, well, what he needs is his lovers. He knows that they utterly trust him, putting their bodies in his small hands, and that responsibility sometimes takes its toll. He talks quietly with them, making sure he has not overstepped, and each assurance he is given helps soothe his mind and body. When he finishes his tea and Dwalin is half-asleep, Dori goes to Bilbo’s side and pulls the Hobbit against his chest.

 

Tomorrow Dori will argue and barter with the members of the Guild that he heads. Dwalin will oversee training of new and old warriors. Bilbo writes and gardens, cooks and reads. At the end, they will take care of each other. But for now they remain in bed. Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note, in D/s relationships, sometimes aftercare is needed - for the dom or the sub or both - and sometimes not. Do remember to talk everything through beforehand and be as honest as possible.  
> And do tell me if I've in any way represented a D/s relationship wrongly.
> 
> 'm going to do that smut prompt thing for October, since alkjira will be breaking for this month. So maybe this fic will suffer for it. Idk. Pairing suggestions are welcomed, as always.


	8. Steeds, Thranduil/Dain, (Elk/War Pig)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt: Dáin and Thranduil find their trusty steeds snuggled up together in a field of flowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this Chapter: Interspecies relationship (animal/animal) [though, hey, Dáin/Thranduil does count *snickers*]  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Gen

Dáin’s return to wakefulness was accompanied by annoyance that he had been awoken and annoyance that he was not allowed to slip back into unconsciousness. Damn it.

 

“What?” He squinted up at Thranduil, whose impassive face held a trace of fondness. Not that the Elf would admit to. “ _Why_ are you awake?”

 

Thranduil’s lips twitched. “Dwarvish stamina may be renown, but Elves recover more quickly.”

 

Pushing himself into a seated position, Dáin groaned, still looking up at the Woodland King. “Then why did you decide to disturb me?”

 

“There is something you must see.” Somehow he managed to rise from his kneeling position in one smooth moment. _Elves_. “Come.”

 

Grumbling about Elves and their lack of consideration and annoying tendency of being annoying, Dáin nonetheless stood as well. He left his coat on the floor, just as Thranduil had his outer robe, and followed him out from the small alcove carved into a great piece of stone.

 

The sunlight cast dappled shadows as it shone between thick foliage, but it was still bright enough to temporarily blind Dáin. He blinked several times to clear the spots from his vision.

 

A slender hand landed on his shoulder. He knew from experience that delicateness did not negate strength, but now the touch remained gentle. “Look,” said Thranduil.

 

At first Dáin saw nothing out of the ordinary. The small clearing before them was grassy and dotted with flowers – no doubt the Elf could name each with little trouble, though to him they looked the same but for the colours – and was therefore good grazing for both their steeds. What was the problem there?

 

Only… He chuckled. Apparently his pig and Thranduil’s elk had finally put aside their long standing standoff. The elk lay flat, whereas the pig was happily stretched over its forelegs. They were, it couldn’t be denied, cuddling.

 

Dáin nudged Thranduil. “This was important enough to wake me up for?”

 

“I could not be sure that they wouldn’t move before you naturally woke.” He snorted. “Considering how long you _can_ and have slept.” Thranduil removed his hand from Dáin’s shoulder, dragging his fingers along the length of it instead of just lifting them away. “And I thought you might appreciate the… similarities.”

 

He stayed silent for a moment, watching the elk as it (mindful of its antlers) settled its chin atop the pig’s head.

 

Then he narrowed his eyes. “I’m not fucking you in a field of flowers.”

 

Thranduil’s lips twitched again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *snickers* This was kind of fun.


	9. Searching, Tauriel/Fili/Kili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Full prompt from alkjira: Tauriel searching through all the tents with injured people after the battle, until she finds the one with Fíli and Kíli and much relief is had when she sees that they're pretty much okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Threesome - F/M/M  
> Warnings: mention of post-war conditions, angst.  
> Rating: Teen

She had heard them, earlier. She had heard them fighting the Orcs and herself fought to get closer to them. There’d been too many of the filth and she hadn’t been able to advance, but she had called out their names.

 

Perhaps she’d only imagined them answering her calls.

 

Still Tauriel searched. She did not ask anyone where they were – she’d already been treated to so many suppositions and untruths (oh please let them be untruths). She’d been told that Fíli died first, that he’d sacrificed himself, that he was thrown from a great height, that he lay forgotten on the ice. Kíli had sworn vengeance over his brother’s body, had fallen down the mountain, had been stabbed through the chest, had cried and choked on his own blood.

 

She blinked away her own tears. There would be time later for them, if… If.

 

Tauriel would probably have attracted more stares if most other people hadn’t been concentrating on their own wounds or that of others. Her hair was matted with blood, tangled. Her eyes were likely wide and frightened as her gaze flitted from face to face, from tent to tent. There were bruises on her face and her arm hung limply by her side; gifts from Bolg before Legolas managed to kill him.

 

She could not feel the pain. Her usually light feet almost dragged across the ground and all she knew was her heartbeat, her worry, her hope, her dread. She stood still for a moment within a sea of Dwarves and Men and Elves, looking for those she had lost.

 

(But not _lost_ , she couldn’t _lose_ them, she couldn’t –)

 

Someone tapped the back of her (uninjured) hand. The touch brought her out of her circling panic and she stared down at a Hobbit. He was the first Hobbit she had ever seen in all her years, but she knew who he is. “Bilbo?”

 

One corner of his mouth lifted. “They mentioned me?”

 

Tauriel nodded. They had told her many things and yet so few; enough tales to keep her attention and to make her _want_ to give her attention, but not enough if they were indeed _lost_ and could no longer spin stories…

 

“You are looking for them.”

 

This wasn’t a question, but Tauriel nodded. She studied Bilbo’s face closely, finding his expression familiar – then realising that it was almost certainly a mirror of hers. There was great tiredness there, yes, and tightness at the corners of his mouth in an attempt to present a calm bearing. But while she still held her tears he had tracks down his cheeks.

 

She took hope, though, in his lack of resignation.

 

Bilbo looked up at her, seeming to search her face as she did his. Then he nodded. “Come,” he said.

 

He took her hand and led her through the survivors. Every flash of dark or flaxen hair caught Tauriel’s gaze but Bilbo did not stop, so she did not either. Their journey felt like it lasted an age and at the end of it was a ragged tent. She saw that the Dwarf sitting outside was one of Thorin Oakenshield’s Company, one of the Dwarves they had imprisoned in the Greenwood.

 

His expression was not friendly, doubly so when he caught Bilbo’s and her joined hands. She put her chin up.

 

Bilbo tugged her forward, patting the tattooed Dwarf’s shoulder absently. Tauriel drew the tent flap aside for him and Bilbo treated her to a small smile. Then they entered the tent.

 

She had to stoop to fit inside, but that didn’t matter. There was no bed here in the battlefield. There were blankets, shirts, coats, crudely brought together as cushion against the ground. Bilbo released her hand; when she glanced at him he smiled again. He patted her arm, and bade her forward with a jerk of his chin. Then he left.

 

Staring at the tent flaps was a delaying tactic. But why wouldn’t she delay, when she did not know what she would face once she turned? She thought about all the hearsay she had heard, twisted by her own imagination. She pushed them away with all the bravery she could muster, and turned.

 

She saw the blood, the bandages, the yellow and brown hair, the entwined hands –

 

Tauriel fell to her knees and allowed her tears to fall as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually have a fic which centers around these three in BoFA, but it's on the backburner. So I hope you enjoyed this taster.
> 
>  
> 
> (yes they're alive)


	10. Trains, Bilbo/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: ‘why have you not stopped staring at me on this train for the past 5 min have i got something on my face help im getting really self conscious’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Modern AU  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Gen
> 
> prompted by thorinshielding

Um. This had gone beyond the stage of awkward and well into bizarre territory. And _extremely_ uncomfortable.

”Hello?” Bilbo waved his hand a little, until the man seated opposite finally blinked and met his eyes. “Is there something wrong?”

The man’s frown deepened - and it had been pretty deep before, that’d been part of why Bilbo had noticed him in the first place, as if Bilbo was what was wrong. He glanced around the empty compartment, then looked back at Bilbo. “What?”

“You’ve been staring.” No response. “At me.” The man still said nothing. “For some minutes.”

Bilbo was treated to another minute of silence and staring. And then, “I was not aware. Excuse me.” He crossed his arms and demonstratively turned to look out the window. And that seemed to be that.

Well he didn’t seem to be very friendly, this whoever-this-was, even if he was striking. He sat in the worn and stained train seat like it was a throne, legs spread in a way that would’ve been annoying to the person sitting beside him, if there had been one. He wore nice-fitting jeans and thick-soled boots and an ugly collared t-shirt that nonetheless showed off his arms. There was a leather jacket with faux fur along the lapels, thrown carelessly onto the seat next to him.

And fine, he was attractive. Blue eyes and a neat beard and a nose to die for. Bilbo didn’t have a type- he was happy to be attracted to anyone, whatever permutation of gender (if they had a gender) and sexuality and characteristics - but he found himself quite willing to have this man be his type. He’d be quite willing to _have_ this man, especially on his back while Bilbo straddled -

“Is staring at _me_ your way of payback?”

Bilbo was already blushing. Damn. He’d been rude on top of thinking inappropriate thoughts. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean…” He frowned. “You’re nice to look at, is all.”

He expected shock, which he got, and anger, which he didn’t. Instead the man goggled at him with his pale eyes and a dark blush settled across his face. It managed to make him look simultaneously adorable and hot, and doubled Bilbo’s need to have him spread out on a bed.

“Why don’t you come over here?” Bilbo asked, moving his bag to make space. “So I can look at you better.”

There were some hours before they’d reach their destination and maybe he’d be able to get this man’s number by the time the train rolled into the station.


	11. Breakfast cereal, Dwalin/Oin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Modern AU, food  
> Warnings: food mention  
> Rating: Gen
> 
> prompted by alkjira

“That is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen,” Dwalin says.

 

“What?” Oin asks, muffled by the spoon still in his mouth. He swallows. “What’re you talking about?”

 

“ _That_.”

 

He looks down into his bowl, half full of cornflakes and milk (and just a little sugar). There are no spiders floating in it, or suspicious bits in the milk, or any other thing that could make it in any way disgusting. He frowns. “You’re being too confusing too early in the morning.”

 

Now amusement tinges Dwalin’s expression. “Aren’t you a doctor? You’re supposed to be used to early mornings.”

 

“I’m used to working on little sleep. Doesn’t mean I can deal with your nonsense.”

 

“S’not nonsense. You’re the one eating cereal with nothing in it.”

 

“...there’s milk in it.”

 

He snorts. “There’s fruits in the fridge. You know that.”

 

“...yes?”

 

“Fruits to put into the cereal?” Dwalin tries. He shakes his head when Oin continues to look nonplussed. “Again, you’re a doctor. Aren’t you supposed to be more healthy with your eating?”’

 

At this Oin groans. “Adding fruits to things don’t guarantee healthiness. And not having fruits doesn’t mean things’re unhealthy. Cereal is plenty okay so long as it isn’t loaded with sugar.” He takes a defiant spoonful, and then beckons Dwalin forward.

 

Dwalin sighs and ponderously leans down to suffer a milky kiss. “You’re still disgusting.”

 

“Love you too.”


	12. Come Get Me, Fili/Kili/Tauriel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> alkjira prompted "Please come get me" for Fili/Kili/Tauriel, from a prompt meme on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Threesome - F/M/M, Sibling Incest, Violence  
> Warnings: mention of violence  
> Rating: Teen

“This is a joke.” 

Tauriel sighed, rubbing her forehead and wincing when she touched the raised bump that was souvenir from being elbowed in the face. “Not a joke. It’s... Kili, you know I wouldn’t lie about being arrested.”

“Yeah, because you’re supposed to be the sensible one out of the three of us.” She could hear his frown. “It’s still  _possible_  that Fili’s getting you to do this.”

“Well he’s not,” Tauriel snapped. “I broke two people’s noses and I broke Bolg’s arm. On purpose.”

“How did this even happen?”

“He saw us together. I dunno if he knows if we’re all three dating, or whether he even cares. I think it was just an excuse.”

“An excuse for a fight?”

She looked down at her knuckles and the dried blood there. “He claimed that Fili was making a move on his brother’s girl.”

“Yeah, but -”

“That was supposed to make him look like a hero. Like he’s saving me from Fili’s wiles or whatever, and when the rest of his gang got involved no one else complained.” They called themselves the Orcs, those bastards. All muscle and bad teeth and two brain cells shared across the lot of them. “They just  _watched_.”

“I should’ve been there.”

“No,” Tauriel said quickly. “You’d just be in the same position. I don’t want either - I’m so relieved you’re safe.”

Kili caught her stumble. “Isn’t Fili safe?”

Her vision blurred. “I...”

“ _Tauriel_.”

“ _I don’t know_.” She blinked away the tears, and when she licked her lips she tasted blood, feeling the imprint of her teeth there. “He was, we were - we were back to back, but that Spider guy pulled out a knife. That’s when someone called the police, but he cut me -”

“You’re alright?” Kili demanded. From the sound of it, he was struggling into his jacket. 

“I’ve been stitched up. But by the time I knocked the knife away and knocked him out, Bolg and Goblin were dragging Fili away. I tried to get to him, Kili, I  _did_  -”

He hushed her. “I know you did.” She heard the door slam.

“Come get me,” Tauriel said, unable to keep her voice from wobbling, just as she was unable to stop the tears. Once Kili got her out they would be able to search for Fili. He had to be alright, he  _had_  to be - “Please come get me.”


	13. Not Useless, Bilbo/Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> synchronyshattered prompted "You're not useless" for Bagginshield, from a prompt meme on tumblr.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Angst, AU: Canon Divergence  
> Warnings: Major character death  
> Rating: Teen

Bilbo was trying not to panic. His hands were shaking and wet with blood, and though it went against all he’d been taught, he fisted them in Thorin’s clothes. Not to say that the Dwarf’s clothes were clean(or even free of blood), but the principle of the matter still stood.

“I don’t know what to do.” His eyelashes fluttered. “Thorin I - I don’t know -”

“Sssh.” Thorin tried to grasp his hands, but his own were shaking as well. “Just… be still.”

In spite of it all, Bilbo laughed. “I’m not going anywhere.” He couldn’t. And why would he? “But you have to - stay, stay with me, please.”

Thorin choked on what sounded like a sob. “I’ll stay. I will.” He’d lost one of his gloves, somehow,and his skin felt cold. His dark skin was ashen. “Keep talking.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“ _Why_?”

“If I’d just been faster -””

“No, no, no -”

“And if I’d not - the Arkenstone, I didn’t –“ Bilbo fell silent when Thorin’s fingers laced with his. It felt like the only connection he had to the world. He dropped his gaze for a moment and then back up into blue eyes.

“You did what you thought was right.” He swiped his tongue over the split in his lip. “My behaviour was inexcusable. Forgive me.”

“There’s  _nothing_  to forgive. Thorin, I’m glad - I’m glad to have joined the quest, to be here with you,only, I only wish I’d been of more use to you.” 

Thorin squeezed his hand. “You were - you are not useless. We’d not be here if it wasn’t for you. You have come a long way, child of the kindly West.” His breath had quickened. “You’re no longer the same Hobbit I first met in your Shire. You are braver than us all. A hero.”

Their faces were inches apart. Bilbo wondered if he was brave enough to press his lips to Thorin's. It’d been a want he’d acknowledged in Mirkwood, and it had only mounted as they continued on to Erebor, peaking when he realised that he was in love with this King of Dwarves. This… this was likely the last moment they’d have together and -

“Kiss me,” he said, voice breaking. Thorin’s eyes grew wide. “Please, I love you. I love you.” Bilbo blinked away tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. “If you have feelings for me. Kiss me.”

Thorin’s lips twitched upwards, he huffed a laugh. “I didn’t think that you also -”

“I do. I do.”

Thorin’s bare hand cupped his cheek, and Bilbo smiled up at him. Anticipation and strange happiness bubbled within - and then acceptance as he realised that was the last thing he’d ever feel.

The last thing he heard was, “No,  _no_! Mahal, no - Bilbo -!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't fix the spacing??? Ugh.


	14. Amuse Me, Thorin/Bilbo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Leave a “Amuse Me” in my ask, and I will write a funny drabble about one character trying to cheer another up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Shire AU (Post BoFA), Alternate Universe - Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Gen

“Bilbo?”

As a Dwarf who had faced a Dragon (twice), Trolls, Elves, and armies of Goblins and Orcs both, Thorin really shouldn’t have been creeping through Bag End. That was to say, he was not creeping so much as advancing slowly ostensibly so he would not miss any nook or cranny in his search for his Hobbit. Better to be careful and tread carefully. It was safer that way, and it was always wise to be safe.

“Are you here?”

He was reminded that Bilbo had also faced the same enemies as he with the same results – though, more commonly, better ones. Bilbo was not someone to be underestimated; Thorin had learned this lesson early on and continued to learn it as the years went past. 

“Go away, Thorin.” Aha. Bilbo was in the kitchen.

“But my love, I haven’t seen your face all day.”

“That’s a lie.” That was said in an even and measured tone which, though promising, was not the desired effect. At least Bilbo wasn’t angry _at_ Thorin this time. 

Thorin approached the kitchen but did not walk inside or even peer into it. He leaned against the wall just by the doorway, heels braced against the floor. “Even so, that doesn’t mean I do not want to see your face now, darling.”

“Either which way, I do not want to see your face.”

“You don’t truly mean that, my beloved, my button.”

Bilbo snorted and Thorin clenched one fist. A good sign. “I know you just want to come in here and discuss what happened during tea at the Boffins’.”

“Is that a bad thing to want? My sunshine, I only want to help.” Thorin grinned when he heard a choked off laugh. “Ah, you agree with me.”

“Thorin.”

He cautiously peeked into the room. “Yes?”

“Come in, then.”

“Thank you ever so,” Thorin said, fluttering his eyelashes. “My little honey cake.”

Bilbo laughed.


	15. Tell Me, Bilbo/Thorin/Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'Tell Me'? One character confessing something to another.  
> [prompt: something with Dwalin]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Genderqueer character, Film Noir, Alternate Universe - Humans, Rule 63, Genderqueer!Bilbo, Lady!Thorin.  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Teen

The life of a private dick can be dangerous and exciting but for now there’s been a dry spell. In a manner of speaking, that is. The rain’s been pattering for the last week or so. It’s driving him mad, more than the lack of clients. It’s not like he’s living from pay check to pay check and it’s not like he’s got mouths to feed. (That latter not for want of trying.)

He leans back in his chair. It squeaks. He ignores that, puts his feet on the desk, producing his pipe and some tobacco from the first drawer. Packing the bowl doesn’t take long at all even though he’s dallying and he pats his pockets absently, looking for his book of matches.

There’s a click-clack on the wood outside before the rat-tat-tat of knuckles on the door. “Come in,” he says.

The dame’s pretty enough, in green kitten heels and a yellow dress. She’s also got on a red jacket that goes well with the string of oyster fruit ‘round her neck. Her honey-brown hair is damp, curls clinging to her neck.

“Lost my hat,” she says, catching his gaze. “May I sit, Mr. Fundinson?”

“Sure thing, doll.” Dwalin reaches down, ostensibly to look for his matches, but checking that his knuckledusters are in the second drawer and his gun in the lowest one. “Don’t happen to have a light on you, do ya?”

She produces a lighter from the little clutch on her lap. 

He returns it once his pipe is lit, sitting back and inhaling deeply. “You’ve got a job for me?”

“Else I’d not be here,” she says, snorting inelegantly. “My woman, she’s been acting strangely. Won’t tell me anything.” She pauses, but he does nothing more than hum around the bit of his pipe. “Thought she’d said something to an… associate of ours.”

“But?”

“Don’t think he knows anything.”

“He usually spill to you?”

“If he knows what’s good for him.”

Dwalin grins. “Scared of ya?”

“Yes. Though he says it’s respect.”

Maybe he’ll ask for more information about this associate – though he doesn’t think he’ll need to. “Got any idea when this woman of yours started actin’ all weirdlike?”

“Couple of weeks?” She doesn’t sound sure. He watches her tuck some curls behind her ears. Her fingers are small and delicate. No ring though. He’s sure she’d look even prettier with a diamond. 

Now isn’t the time for that. “What d’ya mean by ‘weird’ anyhow?”

“She’s clammed up: quieter than normal, speaks less than normal. She’s been reading a book when she thinks no one is looking but she hides it away so I’ve no idea what it’s for.” Her sigh is frustrated. “I think she might have gone to the hospital?”

“Who told you that?” Dwalin is frowning. “Or you followed her?”

“Her sister let it slip. But she won’t say anything; claims she went to visit a cousin.” 

“You think she’s lying?” He means to ask more but the door opens again, this time without any preceding knock. Dwalin doesn’t jump but the dame in the dress does, whirling around. She’s got her clutch, er, clutched in both hands. 

The newcomer’s wearing trousers and a blue shirt, the holster of a gun just peeking from under her leather jacket. Her skin’s dark, hair even darker. Her pale-eyed gaze flicks over Dwalin for a second before she asks the other dame, snaps, “What’re you doing here?”

“Just… just visiting.”

“Don’t give me that. Planning on having me tailed?”

“You’re being silly, Thorin, I –”

“Ya wanna sit?” Dwalin asks pointedly. He’s amused when Thorin rolls her eyes and perches on the corner of the desk. “I’d rather not have the pair of you two clawing at each other, ‘f that’s alright with you.”

“There’d be no ‘clawing’ if Bilbo could just ask me directly instead of coming here and getting you to ‘investigate’ me.”

“Hah! You would’ve just avoided my questions, like you _have_ been doing. Or have you already forgotten last night, at dinner? You didn’t even have the decency to turn up and when Dwalin asked about it you said I hadn’t invited you.” The way she’s blinking rapidly suggests there’s going to be waterworks. “You know very well I did, I even made your favourite custard –”

“Didn’t feel like having it. It’s got egg in.”

“Of course it does! I’m hardly going to make it from _powder_ , Thorin.”

Dwalin removes his feet from the desk. He’s got the beginnings of a headache simmering at the base of his skull. He turns towards the bookshelf against the wall behind him. Pulling on a thick book (Lord of the Rings is printed along the side) reveals a hidden shelf with a decanter and some glasses. “Drink?”

Bilbo declines, which isn’t too surprising. But Dwalin’s eyebrows raise when Thorin says, “I can’t.” He watches her turn her face away demonstratively, then his eyes flick down her body. One hand’s fisted on her thigh but the other, the other is curled around her middle. Oh.

Oh.

“Thorin –”

She sighs. “I was gonna tell you both at dinner.”


	16. Lollygagging, Dwalin/Bofur

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: 'Hidden' Relationship, Oral Sex  
> Warnings: Blowjobs  
> Rating: Explicit

“Where is Bofur?” When no one answered straightaway, instead exchanging glances and looking around for their hatted companion, Dwalin made an impatient noise. “He’s meant to be scouting, not lollygagging.”

“Why don’t -”

“I’m going to look for him.”

“As I was just about to suggest,” Balin said, half to himself, bemusedly watching his brother stomp away into the undergrowth.

Bilbo, who had been fussing over his pony, looked worried. “You don’t think Bofur’s in trouble, is he?”

Nori snorted. “If he isn’t, he soon will be.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kili asked.

“It means, dear brother,” Fili said, throwing his arm over Kili’s shoulders, “that lollygagging may be happening if it isn’t already.”

* * *

“Oh, _Mahal_. You’re killing me.”

There was a small _pop_. “Quiet.”

Bofur grinned down at Dwalin. “If you want that, we should switch places.” He ran his fingers along the tattoos on his shaved head and then down one cheek. “But I like th’ view.”

Dwalin’s skin was hot with his blush. “So do I.” Then he swallowed Bofur’s cock down to the root.

Though he wanted to, Bofur demonstrated - in his opinion - remarkable self control in not shouting out. It was extremely difficult to keep silent; one: because of his innate character and lack of censor and two: Dwalin was an absolute _master_ at sucking cock. Just the way his tongue caressed every inch of skin and the way he kept his lips a tight ring, the way he swallowed occasionally and sometimes grazed with his teeth. The way he would pull back, lips and chin glistening, eyes fixed on Bofur’s as he blowed a gust of cool air on the puffy head of Bofur’s cock.

Hoping he would last, Bofur stuffed one of the flaps of his hat between his teeth, and braced himself against the tree.


	17. Ophelia, Nori/Dwalin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Trans Character (Trans!Dwalin)  
> Warnings: Suggestive language  
> Rating: Teen
> 
> Song: Ophelia by the Lumineers

It was three twenty in the morning and it was raining.

 

Nori had climbed out of her window not long ago, awoken from her post-fanfiction-binge-nap by clacks of stones against the glass. A grin had graced her features before she actually gazed out at her visitor; there was only one person who’d visit her so late, who had such a good aim.

 

“I think you’ve put a crack in the glass,” she said, landing lightly on the wet grass.

 

“Who cares?”

 

“I don’t, but Dori might. He’ll go on about my room flooding.”

 

Dwalin snorted, pushing her hair out of her face. Her wilted mohawk was adorable. “I know for a fact that crack isn’t that big.”

 

“Oh, you’d know everything about my crack, wouldn’t you?” Nori laughed obnoxiously. The rain was just heavy enough to have her damp around the corners. She was chilly, dressed in little more than a tatty T-shirt, jorts, and canvas shoes. It didn’t surprise her when Dwalin wrapped her in her leather jacket, too big and quite wet, but still warm. It didn’t surprise her, but her heart skipped all the same.

 

The lamppost in front of the house flickered on and off erratically, had been for some days, providing a staccato of light as Dwalin took her hand and led her to the road.

 

“Where are you taking me?” Nori asked laughingly, her hand dwarfed in Dwalin’s. She expected to be led to the motorcycle parked off to the side but they passed it. Pity, because it’d been a long while since she’d had wind in her hair as she hugged Dwalin from behind. It’d been longer since she’d been bent across the seat as Dwalin fucked her from behind.

 

“Dancing.” It was always impossible to tell if Dwalin was blushing, given her beard covered what her dark skin didn’t hide, and she certainly seemed confident enough when she pulled out her phone and presumably selected a playlist.

 

Piano and tambourine filled the air along with the already-present rain. The tune was jaunty and folksy. Nori found her feet moving even before she realised. She threw her arms around Dwalin’s neck as they splashed in puddles, wondering helplessly when exactly she’d fallen in love.


	18. Bitter End, Thranduil/Dain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Healer!Thranduil, BoFA-gone-wrong  
> Warnings: Major Character Death, Injury mention  
> Rating: Teen

The first time they met they’d been on opposite sides of a war. Even so, Thranduil’s training overwhelmed his ‘duty’ to his country and he’d helped the stranger. With his usual efficiency he amputated and cauterized the Dwarf’s leg, saving him from infection and bleeding out. His assistance meant he was not killed when the Dwarf’s people came for him.

 

Their next meeting was under different circumstances. At that point, their people were working together against a common enemy. Separated from the band of doctors and nurses he’d been with, Thranduil found himself at the (laughably miniscule) mercy of said enemy and saved by the very Dwarf he’d saved months ago. The Dwarf brought him back to his camp and offered his tent. A few days later, once Thranduil was strong enough to re-join his people, the Dwarf offered his body as well.

 

The third encounter was when Thranduil learned the Dwarf’s name. Dáin was the name given by his parents, Ironfoot was the tacked on moniker given in part thanks to Thranduil. He still remembered the grim way Dáin clung to consciousness even as Thranduil pressed the heated blade to the stump of his leg. He still remembered the shocking chill of the metal replacement pressed against his bare skin.

 

The war went on, spanning the long months between then and their fourth face-to-face. Too many people died under Thranduil’s care, Elves, Men, Dwarves. He took each loss personally. Elves were meant to endure, not disappear between one blink and the next. And though mortals were doomed to die in any case, that their already short lives were shortened made Thranduil unsettled. The possibility of Dáin slipping through Thranduil’s healing abilities made him ill.

 

Their last meeting was their fifth.

 

“I don’t know what to do.” Dáin looked terrified.

 

Thranduil supposed that was understandable. Dáin’s knowledge of healing was about equal to Thranduil’s skill in fighting. That was what had caused this mess in the first place, caused the spread of red within and without the wounds his body had sustained. There were methods to slow this process enough that he’d still be alive when help found them, but… he was too tired.

 

“Keep living,” was what he said instead. “Survive the war.”

 

Dáin might have promised him this, but they both heard Orc horns and the thud of approaching feet. They’d obviously found the trail made from Dáin’s dragging Thranduil’s body through the brush. Soon their hiding place would be found.

 

“Seems like that’s not going to be possible.” A calloused and bloodstained hand caressed his cheek. Thranduil could barely feel it.

 

Considering the beliefs of their respective races, they would never again see each other. Thranduil stared up at Dáin with rapidly failing vision, trying to commit the Dwarf to memory. He did not die quickly enough to be spared the sight of the blade that went through Dáin’s neck. He was alive enough to feel the weight of the body above his, to feel the final exhale that escaped Dáin’s lungs.


	19. Soul, Bilbo/Thorin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Alternate Universe - Gods, Minor God!Bilbo  
> Warnings: None  
> Rating: Gen

His inability to back down from a challenge was going to get Bilbo in trouble.

 

The challenge had come from Gandalf, who had a talent of getting under people’s skin like no other. But how else could Bilbo have reacted when his thieving skills were called into question? Gandalf had chosen to focus on the ‘minor’ part of Bilbo’s minor god status – he’d actually accused Bilbo of having gone soft around the middle because he did nothing more than sit in his flowery patch of the heavenly realms and smoke pipeweed.

 

Besides the insult to his abilities, Bilbo didn’t see what his shape had to do with anything. To imply that his chosen form was somehow flawed because of its girth, well, that was doubly insulting. After he finished this particular ‘job’, he was going to give Gandalf a piece of his mind.

 

He put his annoyance aside for now, choosing to concentrate on the task at hand.

 

It didn’t take much skill to enter Mahal’s halls unseen – indeed, the biggest trouble Bilbo had was choosing which soul he was to take. Each one resided inside a gem, varying in size and colour in so many dazzling combinations that he was almost dizzied by them.

 

Bilbo knew he had to take one that wouldn’t be immediately missed, which was why he absolutely ignored the one his eyes immediately went to, the oval one that was as big as his fist and glowed as if white fire burned within. Instead he reached for the soul beside it, one that seemed at first glance black as coal. When he gazed down at it, he saw slivers of silver and wisps of pale blue. It seemed almost drab compared to the shining one, and so Bilbo pocketed it.

 

Leaving the halls was as easy as entering. There seemed no need for his ability to turn unseen, but Bilbo kept the shroud of invisibility around his shoulders until he was a ways away from Mahal’s realm. In hindsight, he might have kept it where it was all the way to his home.

 

“You are the Thief, are you not?”

 

Fighting the urge to merely squeak in reply, Bilbo managed a bow. “I am, my Lady Yavanna.”

 

“Where have you come from?” she asked. Grass and flowers bloomed where she stood, shooting up between her toes. “And to where do you go?”

 

“I return to my home, Lady, after visiting the Eagles. They are friends of mine.” He was careful, offering her a half-truth instead of an outright lie.

 

Yavanna’s face remained impassive as she looked him over. Although Bilbo knew her as the Vala of all the growing things of Arda, he did not know the extent of her power – rather, he did not know if her gaze could pierce through him and discern any untruths on his breath. He stood still as she looked him over, holding his breath and continuing to hold it even when she suddenly smiled.

 

“Hopefully this will not be the last meeting between us, little Thief.”

 

This was clearly a dismissal, and so Bilbo merely bowed again. He hoped that this would be their one and only meeting, as it was now that he remembered that she was the spouse of the Vala he had just stolen from.

 

Once he was alone, he all but ran back to his Bag End. He made his way inside to his study, clearing a spot on a high shelf for the soul he had stolen. He would keep it long enough to prove to Gandalf that he had not lost his touch, and then he would return it. He meant no malice with his thievery, only the chance to prove his skill. After all, what would he do with a soul anyway?

 

Bilbo couldn’t explain what happened next. He must not have fully released the soul before retracting his hand, or something similar, and he watched in horror as the gem toppled to the ground and shattered before his eyes. What he had thought to be a stone was apparently more fragile than an eggshell, albeit an eggshell containing smoke that spread to fill the room.

 

Waving it away, Bilbo was very surprised to find that there was now a tall Dwarf standing before him. They had hair as black as coal with slivers of silver, and eyes a pale, wispy blue. They also wore an impressive frown.

 

In unison both he and the Dwarf demanded, “Who are you?” 


	20. Gay Bar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from rutobuka for dwagginshield with trans dwalin and trans thorin, combined with [this prompt](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/154450859122/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-picking-up-person-b) from otpprompts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags for this chapter: Trans Characters, MTF-Trans!Thorin, FTM-Trans!Dwalin, Injury Mention, Modern AU  
> Warnings: Injury mention  
> Rating: Teen

The thing about Dwalin was that Thorin could always count on him to utterly embarrass her. 

 

See she usually got around on her motorbike but ever since the ‘accident’ with that Azog bastard, she had to depend on various friends and family members while hobbling around with too-long crutches. It was tiresome, but a small price to pay since that asshole was now behind bars for the foreseeable future.

 

To get back to the point, however, on this day she was subject to the whims of her sadistic cousin and friend (and more-than-friend). She’d already been alerted to his presence by the buzzing of her phone as _soon_  as seven o’ clock rolled by, but if his punctuality and impatience wasn’t annoying enough, the blare of music outside her class certainly took the cake.

 

 _You!_  
I wanna take you to a gay bar,  
I wanna take you to a gay bar,  
I wanna take you to a gay bar, gay bar, gay bar.

 

The worst part about it was that just about everyone was staring. At Dwalin’s pickup, or at an uncaring Dwalin leaning against the side of the car, or at the approaching and hideously ashamed Thorin. God, she wasn’t going to be able to look her colleagues or students in the eye ever again.

 

 _I’ve got something to put in you,_  
I’ve got something to put in you,  
I’ve got something to put in you,  
At the gay bar, gay bar, gay bar.  
Wow!

 

“You are absolutely the worst person I know,” Thorin said, slamming the door closed. She peered at the car radio, trying to figure out where the volume controls were - or, better yet, the off button.

 

“No idea what you’re talking about.” Dwalin thankfully put the car into drive and pulled away from Dale University-College - though, really, the damage was done -, clicking his tongue when he got to a traffic light just as it turned red. 

 

“I’m pretty sure there’re laws against disturbing the peace.”

 

He sighed and twirled a knob. The dance-punk thankfully went quieter. Thorin only relaxed into her seat when Dwalin’s hand then found its way to the thigh of her uninjured leg. He squeezed. “Don’t need to be so uptight.”

 

“You don’t need to be a giant arse but you do it anyway,” she retorted, without any real heat.

 

“That’s because you secretly love it.”

 

“I don’t. Really.”

 

Another squeeze. “No need to lie to me.”

 

Thorin rolled her eyes, and in so doing, saw the part of town they were in. “What are we doing going this way?”

 

“I got a little surprise.”

 

“You’re not taking me to an actual gay bar.”

 

No reply.

 

“ _Are_  you?”

 

“How come you always manage to guess my surprises?” Dwalin looked more than a little put out, lower lip pushed forward into a pout. He’d retrieved his hand, expertly twirling the wheel as he parallel parked. “I thought I had a good handle on it this time.”

 

“You literally blasted a song saying what you were going to do. That was a terrible plan.” Thorin tightened her grip on the crutches. “Dwalin, I’m not going inside.”

 

“Why not? The beer’s good and they don’t play stupid music. The spiced nuts are excellent.” He killed the engine. “It’s more like a pub than whatever depraved imaginings you’ve come up with.”

 

“Then let’s go to an actual pub.”

 

“Aw, c’mon.” The door opened. “You’ll love it, I’m sure.”

 

“What?” She frowned when he left the car and slammed the door closed. She raised her voice. “Dwalin! What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

He didn’t answer, which was probably understandable as he was circling the hood to make his way over to her side of the car. He pulled the door open, propping a forearm on the roof and leaning over her expectantly. 

 

This was not attractive. At all. Thorin cursed inwardly. “I’m not going in.”

 

“Why not? They have that thing you like.”

 

“You’ll have to specify. I like many things. Except you.”

 

Dwalin was unfazed. “Two words: Acorn Ale.”

 

Thorin got out.

 

* * *

 

 

It was apparently happy hour and Dwalin was paying, so by her second drink Thorin had forgiven him for his idiocy. Today’s idiocy, anyway.

 

They’d gotten a table in the corner farthest away from the band set up. (There wasn’t a band yet, but considering the drum set, Thorin didn’t particularly want to deal with a headache when they did turn up.) She sat with her back to the rest of the bar so none of the overhead disco-esque lights wouldn’t shine into her eyes.

 

Dwalin’s phone lit up and he snatched it up. His only reaction to whatever message he’d received was a slight curl of the lip before he reached out and gently tapped Thorin’s knee. “Lemme up.”

 

Thorin frowned at him, not yet moving her cast covered foot from his lap. “Why.”

 

“I’ve got to go to the gents.”

 

She didn’t quite believe him, considering that he’d apparently only decided this after his phone went off, but she couldn’t fathom what nonsense he had planned so she complied. “Get me another drink.”

 

He placed a smacking kiss to her temple as he passed, which she took as agreement.

 

It took only a few moments for discomfort to settle around Thorin’s shoulders. Sitting in this direction was a bad thing since she couldn’t see anyone coming and didn’t have a Dwalin around to warn her of approaching danger. Not that there necessarily would be danger in a bar but considering all that had happened in her history (and her family’s history), she always found it better to anticipate rather than be caught unawares.

 

Indeed, she was just about to haul herself to her feet and change seats when someone dropped a hand on her shoulder. Going by the weight she knew immediately it wasn’t Dwalin, and quickly whirled around to give this person a piece of her mind. Catching hazel eyes made the words wither away on her lips.

 

Bilbo smiled down at her. “No need to get up on my account.”

 

Thorin could hardly believe it. “You’re supposed to be in Hobbiton.”

 

“Yes, but when I heard…” His gaze flicked down to her cast. “I had to come back.”

 

“Who told -” She glared at Dwalin, who had reclaimed his seat. “I told you not to.”

 

“And I recognised it as being a terrible decision, so I ignored it.” He looked entirely too pleased with himself.

 

“This was the actual surprise,” Thorin realised, and if it hadn’t been for that fucking accident, she’d have kicked him. 

 

But if it hadn’t been for his disobedience, Bilbo wouldn’t be here, sitting down as well and taking her hand in his. He wouldn’t have made the long journey from halfway across the world where he was meant to be for many more months. She hadn’t wanted to worry him since the unpleasantness with Azog had been settled, but she couldn’t deny that his presence had her calmer and more relaxed than she’d been in a long time.

 

Well, she’d forgive Dwalin this as well, then.

**Author's Note:**

> Pairing suggestions welcome, but don't be too insulted if they don't appear.


End file.
